| Take a look at my body
|
| Look at my hands
|
| There's so much here that I don't understand
|
| Your face-saving promises
|
| Whispered like prayers
|
| I don't need them
|
| 'Cause I've been treated so wrong,
|
| I've been treated so long
|
| As if I'm becoming untouchable
|
| Well, contempt loves the silence, it thrives in the dark
|
| With fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart
|
| They say that promises sweeten the blow
|
| But I don't need them, no I don't need them
|
| I've been treated so wrong,
|
| I've been treated so long
|
| As if I'm becoming untouchable
|
| I'm a slow-dying flower
|
| In the frost-killing hour
|
| Sweet turning sour and untouchable
|
| I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness
|
| Oh I need this
|
| I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight,
|
| Angel, sweet love of my life
|
| Oh I need this
|
| I'm a slow-dying flower
|
| Frost-killing hour
|
| The sweet turning sour and untouchable
|
| Do you remember the way that you touched me before
|
| All the trembling sweetness I loved and adored
|
| Your face-saving promises
|
| Whispered liked prayers
|
| I don't need them
|
| I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness
|
| Oh, I need this
|
| I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life
|
| Oh, I need this
|
| Well is it dark enough
|
| Can you see me
|
| Do you want me
|
| Can you reach me
|
| Oh, I'm leaving
|
| Better shut your mouth, and hold your breath
|
| You kiss me now, you catch your death
|
| Oh, I mean this
|
| Oh, I mean this |